


Possibly The Prettiest (You Look So Good In Blue)

by petericky



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Panty Kink, Rimming, Srar era, Wall Sex, grumpy!Patrick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6526561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petericky/pseuds/petericky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete wants to try something. Patrick doesn't. </p><p>(Or, grumpy power bottom Patrick owns my soul.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possibly The Prettiest (You Look So Good In Blue)

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, as usual, I'm sorry.
> 
> This was inspired by me listening to Alpha Dog, and my mind forever being in the gutter.

Patrick looked briefly up from his laptop as Pete strode into the living room, the grin on his face as bright as the pink shopping bag in his grasp, and looked straight back down.

“Not a fucking chance, Pete.” His fingers continued to dance across his keyboard. Pete’s smile dropped off his face, and he threw himself down on the sofa beside Patrick, pouting like a kicked puppy and letting his head fall sideways onto the younger man’s shoulder, mouth directly under his ear.

“But _why_?” he whined, watching Patrick’s eyebrows knit in frustration from the corner of his eye. “Patrick please, you haven’t seen them, I’ll do anything, just this once, please?”

Pete craned his neck to kiss at the point where Patrick’s jaw met his neck. He frowned when Patrick seemed to be ignoring him rather effectively, but knew he’d won when he started to suck, and Patrick snapped his laptop shut, sliding it to the floor and shoving Pete back onto the sofa.

Patrick crawled up the sofa to straddle Pete’s hips, smirking as he ground down, earning breathy curses from his boyfriend. He leaned forward and kissed him, resting his elbows on the sofa cushion either side of Pete’s head. It was far from chaste, Patrick licking into Pete’s open mouth, their tongues gliding together, all while Pete’s insistent hands on his ass increased the beautiful friction between them. The kiss steadily grew more and more intense, and eventually the two were rutting frantically against each other like teenagers; one of Patrick’s hands shoved under Pete’s shirt to rest on his firm stomach, one of Pete’s wedged down the back of Patrick’s jeans to squeeze at the soft flesh there.

The bassist looked so hopeful next time Patrick pulled away for air, eyes blown and glittering with promise. Patrick cocked an eyebrow as he took off his glasses, gently tossing them in the direction of the coffee table.

“Still not happening.”

Pete groaned and flopped his head down in defeat as Patrick set to work on his neck.

\---

Their bedroom was quiet a few nights later, apart from the noise of running water from the ensuite as Patrick brushed his teeth for the night, and a soft, intermittent shutter click. Pete was stretched out on his back on their bed, grimacing as the perfect Instagram-able selfie eluded him. He tried every possible contortion of his eyebrows, every degree of snarl, but it just wasn’t happening tonight, he decided. The ladies would just have to wait. He let his phone fall beside him on the sheets, sighing in frustration. He heard a snicker coming from the doorway to the bathroom behind him, and arched up on his heels to glare upside-down at Patrick. Except what he actually did was immediately collapse, and awkwardly scramble to turn around and stare.

Patrick was leaning against the door frame, his attempt to be sultry marred by his shit-eating grin, but he was _wearing them_.

Shiny lavender satin hid nothing, clinging to where his half-hard cock was beginning to strain against the material. Delicate white lace trimmed the edges, fanning out over the creamy white skin of his thighs, curving over the soft swell of his stomach. Patrick’s bravery started to wane under the weight of Pete’s gaze all over him, and he crossed his arms across his midriff as he waiting for the older man to actually respond.

When Pete’s brain finally stopped short-circuiting, allowing him to do something other than gape like an idiot, he sprung off the bed, making Patrick jump, and stalked over to him, eyes wide and dark.

“Fuck Patrick, look at you.” he growled, grabbing the other’s wrists and unfolding them from his chest, holding them out to take in possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his life, and Pete had seen a lot of incredibly hot things. He had an entire folder of them. He pushed Patrick’s arms above his head and twisted him so his back was against the wall rather than the sharp point of the door frame, and suddenly Patrick was pinned against it as Pete slammed into him, mouths colliding, bodies flush from chest to hips. This was filth and teeth, Pete dragging Patrick’s plush bottom lip hard between his teeth every time he pulled back to admire him.

“God, I knew you’d be fuckin’ gorgeous. Why don’t you trust me, man?” Pete emphasised this complaint with a forward roll of his hips, eliciting a soft moan from Patrick. “So fuckin’ pretty for me babe, I can’t believe you’re all mine…” As if to prove it, he leaned down to suck a marking bruise just above Patrick’s collarbone, the colour slowly blossoming like red wine on the singer’s cotton-white skin. Pete slid to his knees in front of Patrick, kissing a trail down his stomach as he went, releasing the younger man’s hands to slide his own down the other’s sides, finally coming to rest on his rounded hips.

Pete nuzzled into the smooth fabric in front of him, earning a muttered “ _freak_ ” from above, but he just huffed out a laugh as he moved to mouth at the skin along the waistband of the panties. Patrick’s stomach muscles twitched as Pete bit and licked across them, taking his sweet ass time. Patrick was starting to get more than a little impatient with the situation, whimpering and canting his hips towards Pete’s face, hoping he’d get the message. He appreciated that Pete was enjoying this, he really did, but he was now painfully hard, and the panties weren’t exactly accommodating, and he kind of just wanted to get off now. Pete eventually took the hint, although Patrick didn’t expect to be spun around to face the wall.

Pete hopped to his feet, slapping Patrick’s ass as he disappeared to the other side of the room in search of lube. He returned, small tube in hand, and pressed himself up against Patrick, his cock hard against the small of Patrick’s back, free hand reaching around to grope Patrick shamelessly as he whispered in his ear.

“’M gonna fuck you right here against the wall” he breathed, voice low and rough, “Gonna fuck you with your panties still on, yeah, while you’re still all pretty for me..”

“Pete, yeah, fuck, c’mon, please.” Patrick whined, desperate now for Pete to do _something_ , alternately bucking into his grasp and back into him. “Shut up and just fucking do it already.”

Pete rolled his eyes behind Patrick’s back, but he’d be lying through his teeth if he ever said he didn’t love Patrick’s grouchy side. It was adorable, even if there was occasional real danger to the continued attachment of Pete’s balls to his body if he pissed him off.  It kept him on his toes.

He settled back on his knees, and couldn’t help but cup the milky globes of Patrick’s ass that were so barely covered by the panties with both hands. He dug in, loving the give of the pillowy flesh beneath his fingers, the way it dimpled beneath his fingertips, the cool feel of the satin against his palms. He couldn’t resist hooking a thumb under the edge of the material to pull it aside, and spreading Patrick’s cheeks to lick a hot stripe along the crease of his ass.

“Oh god, Pete, stop it, come on.” Patrick growled through gritted teeth, the front of his panties almost navy where his cock was steadily leaking. When he’d put the damned things on he was hoping Pete would just tear them off and fuck him, not make him wait, but seemingly that had backfired miserably.

Very miserably, as Pete had no intention of letting this end quite yet. He readjusted, four tanned fingers now pulling the panties all the way aside as he went in for real, short, heavy swipes across Patrick’s hole before pressing in. Patrick’s whimpering became moaning, Pete’s name and curses and blasphemy. Pete buried his face deep, fucking the singer with his tongue until his jaw ached and Patrick’s thighs started to shake. He pulled away, and popped open the cap on the lube one-handedly, and awkwardly slicked three of his fingers. He let the bottle fall to the floor, crossed two of his fingers, and slid them into Patrick easily, already loosened from the champion-standard rimming, if Pete did say so himself.

He scissored his fingers quickly, opening Patrick up. By this point, Patrick had his palms flat on the wall, nails scrabbling for purchase, and was pushing back onto Pete’s fingers with each forward thrust. Pete soon added another, and crooked his fingers instead, searching. He kissed the dimples on Patrick’s lower back as the younger man cried out when he found the right angle, and kept up his rhythm as Patrick’s breathing grew ragged.

“Pete if you make me come like this I’ll fucking kill you, I swear to G-god, I will not have sex with you or even _look_ at you for a month, Pete please just fuck me, _please_.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” Pete grinned, pressing a final kiss down before he pulled his fingers out and stood up, pushing his own boxers down and spreading the remaining lube on himself, jacking himself lazily as he looked at Patrick in front of him.

Patrick’s thighs had gone from shaking to full on trembling, and he was panting, head tipped back, his cheeks scarlet, and pink, pink mouth wide open. Pete thought he was the most beautiful fucking thing in the world. He pulled the panties out of his way and lined up, pushing home in one fluid motion as Patrick arched back into him.

“Fucking finally…” Patrick murmured as Pete gave him a moment to adjust. The bassist intended to fuck the contempt right out of him, and soon set up a brisk rhythm, bronze hands curled tight around alabaster hips. He kept pace for a while, relishing in the tight, slick heat, and the glide of the panties against the side of his cock, reminding him how lucky he was, what Patrick was willing to do for him. Just as Patrick’s backward thrusts were becoming erratic, though, and the hand the younger man had on his own cock began to falter, Pete pulled out, drawing an indignant yelp from the other.

“You know what-“ Patrick started as he spun around, fully intending to lock himself in the bathroom and jerk off angrily and possibly kill Pete in his sleep for teasing him, but he was cut off by Pete’s arms wrapping tight around his waist, and lifting him off the ground easily, pressing his back to the wall. _Oh_.

“That-” Pete began, punctuating his sentence by thrusting back into Patrick as he pulled the singer’s legs around his waist, “is what I was going to do, if you’d stop bitching for a second.”

“Stop talking. Just fuck me.” Patrick coiled one arm around Pete’s neck, letting out a shaky moan as Pete grazed his teeth along his jaw. Pete let his forehead fall against Patrick’s, and finally, _finally_ fucked him with purpose, his hips cracking against Patrick’s thighs like electricity.

Pete’s new penchant for fitness meant that this was easy, he could lift Patrick like he was nothing, hold him down with no effort at all, and if that didn’t make Patrick weak in the knees at the best of times. He was so close, even Pete’s stream of awful porn-dialogue dirty talk was pushing him closer.

It was a particularly well-aimed and forceful thrust that pushed Patrick over the edge, back arching away from the wall as he came over his hand working inside the panties, more than likely destroying them, not that he was deeply concerned. It didn’t take much more than him clenching around Pete and near-sobbing his name for the other to follow suit, coming with a grunt and a stilling of his hips.

He stayed still for a few moments, catching his breath against the hollow of Patrick’s throat before gripping him more tightly, and staggering over to the bed. He let his boyfriend down gently onto the mattress before thumping down beside him, a sleepy but thoroughly satisfied smile lighting up his face.

“Fuck man, that was amazing. _You’re_ amazing.” Patrick just scowled in response as he lifted his hips to peel the damp, sticky panties off and throw them across the room in disgust, rolling off the bed to go in search of a washcloth as Pete’s come started to drip uncomfortably down his thighs. But his expression was soft when he came back, sliding back in beside the older man and pulling the sheets over them as he knocked off the lamp, throwing a leg across Pete’s hip as he settled down.

“I know,” the singer murmured sleepily.

Pete smiled, kissing Patrick’s forehead in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this at 3am, someone take my laptop away.


End file.
